


The Fall

by FlamboyantWreck, JustLostWandering13



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-19
Updated: 2013-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-05 04:40:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1089718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlamboyantWreck/pseuds/FlamboyantWreck, https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustLostWandering13/pseuds/JustLostWandering13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Events leading up to, during and years after the fall. Semi AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pre Fall

Sherlock couldn’t bear to see John all alone, down on the street. Even from the top of St. Barts he could see that his blogger was upset. Sherlock longed to tell him the truth. To tell him that everything would be okay. Then the idea came. The detective could trick the snipers long enough for John to come up on the roof. He could have John come to the roof, and the snipers could still see him. It wouldn’t be against Moriarty’s little rules of the game.  

“Moriarty… Oh!” Sherlock muttered to himself. His lifeless body still on the roof. John would have a fit, not something he felt like explaining at the time. The detective hid the body of the dull nemesis behind the door to the roof, hoping John wouldn’t look behind it. As he finished tidying up, Sherlock called John and told him to come up. As John opened the door to the roof, he took one look at the detective and ran strait towards him. Sherlock had been so worried that John would spend too much time mourning him and not get on with his life. But now he could tell his blogger the truth. As Sherlock started to explain their situation, John forcefully wrapped his arms around the taller man, almost pushing him off the edge. 

"Careful!" Sherlock yelled, and John pulled the detective a few inches closer to himself and away from the edge of the roof. Sherlock could feel the doctor’s breath on his ear and neck and smell the detergent on his jumper. John always made the laundry smell better. Sherlock savoured the moment as long as he could because he knew another one like this wouldn’t come along for quite some time. 

 “Sherlock, I don’t know what’s going on but I swear to god if you do something stupid…” The detective didn’t know if he could bear to tell John now. He explained the snipers, but withheld his plan for how to get rid of them. 

“John…” Sherlock whispered in his blogger’s ear. “I have to go now, but I will be back for you. Promise.”  

John looked at the taller man in confusion as he let go. Still facing John, Sherlock leaned back, spread his arms out, and took the fall. 

“Sherlooock!”  

He heard John yelling his name as he landed. When the detective looked up, however, John wasn’t at the ledge. Just as Sherlock had hoped. A split second later the make-up crew Mycroft gathered had surrounded the detective, covering him in fake blood. Sherlock secured small rubber balls under his arms to hide his pulse. And just as The consulting detective laid down, John burst through the door of St. Barts. Sherlock’s body had already drawn a crowd as he heard John push his way through. 

“He’s my friend!” John cried. It was a heart wrenching voice. So hurt and alone. Sherlock wanted to get back up so badly. To hold John like he had held the detective on the roof. To be engulfed by his smell of shampoo and the cologne Sherlock had bought him on his last birthday. But he knew if he did get up, the snipers would kill John on the spot. Sherlock refrained from moving, though it was hard for him not to open his eyes. John grabbed Sherlock’s hand and checked for a pulse. His touch had never been so delicate before. It was as if he was handling a glass doll. 

“Sherlock.” He whispered the detective’s name with such a shaky voice, as a tear fell on Sherlock’s cheek. John’s tear.   


	2. Post Fall

John Watson stood in front of the marble black tombstone that only read two words, Sherlock Holmes. This was John’s second visit today, even though John had told himself this morning that he wouldn’t be back today. Yet, a pulling sensation had brought him back tonight. 

 “Hi Sherlock. I know I said I wasn’t coming back again today, but I couldn’t stop myself from coming. I just can’t stay away,” John sat down against the tombstone.  

A single tear had managed to escape his eye. The ex-army doctor wiped it away then flicked the water into the air; the only thought running through John’s mind was about the day Sherlock fell. Sherlock had promised John that he would return and be back in John’s life; the promise was constantly probing it’s way through his mind.  

“Oh Sherlock. No one’s understood my grief, and I doubt they ever will.” 

The only response John received was a gust of wind. John just sat there, thinking of all the good times with the consulting detective and the cases they had solved together. After a while, John broke from his thoughts and stood to leave. He took five steps then stopped in his tracks, but didn’t turn around when he spoke.  

“It’s been three damn years Sherlock. I’m getting tired of waiting for you to come back,” the words were mumbled from John. He went to take another step when a familiar voice behind him stopped John.  

“I know John. I’m sorry,” John turned around to see Sherlock standing behind his tombstone. The detective stepped in front of the grave, wearing the same clothes that he had been wearing during the fall. His hair was longer than the last time John had seen it, but still a mess of brown curls. John blinked to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating the man, then walked up to Sherlock. John punched his best friend in the nose with a force Sherlock didn’t expect; after a few seconds of waiting John wrapped his arms around Sherlock in a hug. 

 “Don’t you ever do that again,” John demanded through his sobs, as Sherlock wrapped his arms around John to return the embrace.


End file.
